Defying Gravity
by AliceEnchanted
Summary: When a mysterious spell sends Hermione Granger a one-way ticket back in time, she begins to question if the past really is a nice place to visit only, and not a wonderful world to live in. Suddenly, she's spiraling into a whole new web of an unfamiliar life, and she starts to wonder if being a Pureblood is all as cracked up as it seemed to be. Marauders AU.
1. The Paladin

**Defying Gravity**

Chapter One: The Paladin

* * *

Hermione was annoyed.

No.

She was seething, actually.

She marched around the halls to the direction of the library with a murderous look on her face, her hands almost making a dent on the books she was holding as her grip tightened on the edges. The Gryffindor was oblivious to the looks she was getting from the students she'd passed, and the fearful ones the younger students threw her way as her bushy hair was even bushier with the magic that seemed to crackle on their tips. She was practically mentally cursing a certain redhead as she did, not exactly wanting to say such words aloud. He was still her friend, after all. Just imagine everyone's reaction if they heard them talking about someone using an oh so colorful language, especially if that someone happened to be another member of the Golden Trio. Not a good image. She was, after all, dubbed as goody two-shoes. While she felt a little betrayed and hurt at Ron's words, she couldn't help, too, the pinching feeling of guilt that ate her on the insides as she stabbed him at the back.

The thing is, though, he wouldn't listen if she told him about it on person; and trying to knock some sense to him will be useless, anyways.

Still, she couldn't believe that Ron actually had the guts to insinuate that she, Hermione Granger – one-third of the Golden Trio and the Brightest Witch of her Age – was far from being a girl. While she wouldn't feign ignorance of Ron's… lack of common sense, it still enraged her that he viewed her as one of the boys. Sure, both of her best friends were boys; she never wore any color on her face or dress up or gossip about trifled and boys with Lavender and Parvati and she doesn't usually hang out with the girls in her year. But that doesn't give him the grounds to claim that she wasn't a girl! Well, he didn't exactly tell her that, still, he should've been more careful with his choice of words. He's supposed to be one of her best friends. But then again, it was Ron she's talking about, and Ron will be Ron.

And in most talks where she was concerned, he was an utter careless idiot.

Then there was Harry. Harry – her brother in all but blood and he who didn't even stand up for her! Granted, it was smart of him to keep his mouth shut. But he could've said something, too. She could use some support, which she didn't usually get from him whenever she and Ron – or as the latter would more likely to start – would have a disagreement of some sort against each other. Instead, he had just sat on the sidelines silently, his mouth gaping like a fish.

And the morning didn't prove to be any different from their other, small uprising arguments his stupid mouth always preludes. So instead of staying back in the Great Hall, she just chose wisely to fled rather than to fight over such trifle. But while it wasn't, since his comment truly hurt her this time, she wouldn't stoop that low to argue with the redhead's shallowness. She was more than that. She was beyond better than that.

She was itching to hex him, though.

Fuming, though she was much calmer now, she rounded on the corner towards the direction of the library, almost bumping into a shy Hufflepuff, who went scurrying off when he saw the look on her face. Had she not in such emotion now, she would've laughed at the hilarity of it. Shaking her head, she pushed open the doors upon reaching them, the smell of old books, inks and parchments that tickled her nostrils taking away the remainder of her anger, and replacing the frown that marred her features with a smile. She greeted Madam Pince as she walked over to her usual spot in the farthest corner of the library, a skip in her steps. However, the group of giggling girls that sat amongst themselves by the middle aisle had her gritting her teeth in frustration, and she could already feel a headache coming. She held back a groan when she spotted the subject of their current gossip – Cedric Diggory. Merlin, help her. If it wasn't Viktor, it was the Hufflepuff Champion, and while the Gryffindor student didn't hold any objection of them being there, she just wished that their fan girls wouldn't continuously follow them, or that Madam Pince would just shoo them out of the library. Or ban them, even.

But Hermione, being Hermione, thought it was a little bit cruel. Though another part of her wanted the old quiet and peace of the library.

With a sigh, she purposely shot the group a deathly glare as she passed their table, effectively shutting them up. For a moment, Hermione thought she had succeeded, until they broke out once again in a fit of giggling mess. She let out a small growl under her breath, shaking in frustration as she reached her table, choosing to ignore them instead of hexing them to silence. She dropped her bag on the table with her books as she plopped down on the chair, burying her face instantly on her palms. 'Calm down, Hermione,' she told herself.

She took a deep breath, and after counting from one to ten, exhaled it through her mouth. She stared at the books atop the table, battling with herself if she should prioritize her assignment or helping Harry with the second task and weighing the consequences of each at the same time. Hermione didn't like to sacrifice her grades, as her parents look up and expected highly from her, but she didn't want to abandon Harry, either, especially now that he needed her help the most. Despite his actions from earlier, or the lack of it, rather, she couldn't find it in her heart to pull out a Ron on him, so she decided to put the former aside and went in action for the latter.

She stood up and shuffled between the shelves in the Charms section, browsing from books to books of what she deemed could help her best friend. But it seemed like her hunt was futile, or that her mind was uncooperative this time since she couldn't think of what specific book could help them. Hah! If Harry and Ron were there, they would've laughed at her. Hermione Granger, the Hermione Granger finally didn't know something. The idea itself was preposterous. Huffing in her vain attempts, she just grabbed random titles off the shelves and went back to her table, stacking then books in a neat pile before going on them one by one.

She didn't even bother looking at the Table of Contents as she jumped right away to where she opened the pages. Her eyes scanned the black letters that made no sense to her, but her lips had read silently. She was thinking that whoever had wrote this ridiculous text was absolutely out of their mind. Seriously, who would encode such nonsense in an academic text-

Her mental rant was cut off when she felt a sudden shift in her surroundings, and she could only watch in shock and confusion as the library dissolved slowly in a blur of colors, as if someone had brushed away a living painting with a water. She was seeing things in a veil of water, and she didn't like how that felt. How it felt. A jolt of magic had her panicking, but she had no time to think about what was happening as she was sucked into darkness, the magnetic force suspending her in the air for a moment before she was pushed roughly down.

She screamed in fright as she began falling real fast, the coldness of the dark enveloping her shaking frame, her voice lost against the metallic screech that echoed harshly on the empty space. Hermione tried desperately to reach into something, but her hand was only met by an even colder air. _Help_ , she wanted to say, but her throat felt dry, and her body tired as if she had been running for a very long time. There was a sudden stillness, and she could feel her heart pound erratically against her chest, and hear her blood rush loudly on her ears.

Then there was a voice, the softest yet the loudest voice she has ever heard before, and it lulled her to sleep. _A witch lost, a life altered…_ _fortuitously discovered…_ Hermione fought it hard, though her eyelids were growing continuously heavier with each passing moment. _…too soon unraveled…_ Discovered? Unraveled? Those questions ran through her mind as her eyes finally closed. Tired. She was tired.

But then:

 _Cast back in time the soul of the Heroine._

That was the last thing she heard before sleep finally claimed her.


	2. Lost and Found

**Defying Gravity**

Chapter Two: Lost and Found

* * *

 **December 1994 | Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

It wasn't until their Charms lesson was about to begin that Harry and Ron grew really worried about Hermione, the latter wallowing over the initial shock of guilt that was preying upon him. It didn't surprise the bespectacled boy any longer that, while the redhead can be very insensitive most of the time, he was still capable of being truly sorry after his unpleasant actions later on. But what caught him really off guard was his sudden show of such compassion and initiative. Usually, the youngest male Weasley needed much urging for him to realize his mistake, and then oblige. Yet, he took the move this time and went in search for the brunette after their class with Professor Snape.

Sadly, his conquest turned fruitless, and he returned an hour after, disheartened. Harry suggested he try the library, but they arrived at the same result. When they asked Madam Pince if the one-third of the Trio came in, she looked at them as if they'd grown another head or two, then went to shoo them out, muttering under her breath about something unintelligible. Confused, they took their leave and went to the Gryffindor Tower empty-handed.

The even more befuddled librarian watched as they set off, a crease forming between her brows. It wasn't that the witch in question was a stranger to her; in fact, she knew her very much. After all, who wouldn't forget the curious girl who considered her library her safe haven? But why would the two boys be asking about her here?

She hadn't attended Hogwarts for so long…

* * *

Upon entering the Common Room, the two boys stumbled upon Ginny, who was hunched over a table, furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment, seemingly oblivious of the splattering of ink on the table top and to the world. While neither of them wanted to disturb her, their concern for their friend was their top priority at the moment. Ron, who didn't want to face her sister's rage, nudged Harry on his ribs, earning a small yelp and a harsh glare from the raven-haired boy. The redhead just gestured at the third year's direction, though.

Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth just as Ginny looked up from her paper. "Harry!" she exclaimed, blushing furiously at the sight of him. "What can I do- oh." Her face fell when she took notice of her brother beside him. "Hello, Ron. Is there something you needed?"

"Ah, well… could you check if Hermione's in her room? She's not in the library and we've been looking for her everywhere."

Ginny gave her brother a hard, what-have-you-done-this-time look, and nodded her head. While she wasn't particularly close to the brunette, she had learned to treat her as a family, respect her as an older sister and view her as a role model. And years of her being friends with her brother had also led her to know better of the older girl; and Hermione would only ignore Ron if he had infuriated her. "Sure, but we'll talk later, Ronald." She sent him another withering glare before walking upstairs and to the fourth year dormitories, leaving a terrified Ron and a grinning Harry behind.

When she came back with a negative answer, the two Gryffindors felt their hopes crashing on the ground. Maybe they've really hurt her feelings this time? Beyond dismayed, they bid the girl goodbye and headed out, resuming their search for her.

Later on, they assumed that she was just trying to cool herself down somewhere in the grounds, or maybe even went to visit Hagrid and didn't want to talk to anyone of them just yet. They abandoned their search, convincing themselves that Hermione would face them herself once she's ready. So when the bell rang after their free period and haven't seen a glimpse of her, they started to panic.

Harry said she might be in the classroom already. Ron found it hard to believe. He walked alongside Harry to Professor Flitchwick's classroom, head bowed, eyes downcast, and shoulders slumped. It wasn't the first time he had shown regret over something he's done, but it was the first time he felt really bad saying those words to their best friend without being scolded by his sister or told by Harry how stupid he can be sometimes. Well, it may be the second, since the troll incident on their first year came before, and earlier after.

He let out a big sigh, turning to the other boy and voicing out his worries. "What if she wasn't there?"

Harry looked incredulously at his friend. "It's Hermione, Ron," he answered, though his voice gave away the worry he felt if the redhead's words turns out to be true. He hoped not. "Of course she'll be there."

And his resolve broke.

But: Hermione won't miss a class no matter how mad she was at them, would she?

"An if she wasn't?" the taller boy pressed.

A pause. "Then we'll continue finding her. But before that, let's not miss this class, okay? Hermione will sure have our heads off if we did."

As they walk inside the classroom, however; all thoughts of their friend seemed to have been completely erased from their minds; all memories of her shifting into another one.

* * *

 **27 March, 1960 | Potter Manor**

It was eight minutes after their first born was welcomed to the world that his twin sister came next. And Fleamont Potter was beyond happy. For generations, the Potter House has never had twins, and certainly not a female heir. Rather, they were known for having male heirs for as long as they existed. Although women were not given much credit in the wizarding world, daughters were treated in such precious manners that was not even shared with sons. It was, after all, rare for most Pureblood families to bore a female heir due to inbreeding, like that of the House of Black; and so such treatment was bestowed upon them.

And daughters, in the wizarding world, were more treasured than immeasurable galleons one could ever have in his vault.

So when the MediWitch brought in the twins, Fleamont first gazed upon his son's twin, taking the tiny, pink bundle from the witch's arm and cradling her gently against his chest. "She's beautiful, Euphemia," he could only whisper as he stared at he sleeping babe in his arms, his voice full of awe that was reflected in his eyes.

From where she laid, the Potter matriarch smiled lovingly at her husband, who seemed to have fallen deeply in love with their daughter, his eyes shining adoringly as he gazed down at her. She, herself, had their son sleeping peacefully beside her, wrapped in a blue blanket that protected him from the cold. "And he's as handsome as you," she replied, brushing a finger over her son's cheeks softly.

They both brought their eyes at each other, sharing an affectionate smile as they silently vowed of protecting and loving their children equally and unconditionally.

That night, a promise was made just as a witch was born to change the course of destiny. That night welcomed not only James Charlus Potter, but Hermione Galatea Potter as well.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Hello, my dear readers! I'm very sorry for the long wait, since I have been busy these past few weeks in school, preparing all my papers and other requirements for our graduation on June, and with my work, too. Also, I'm sorry for any errors I might've committed while writing this; I know it's very short, and badly written. Sheesh, I'm a bad author. I think I needed a beta.

Siriusly ;)

Anyways, I would like to thank everyone who had checked this story under their Favorites and Subscription Lists, and also to those who took their time to leave a small review. Any constructive criticism would also be highly accepted and appreciated.

Oh, for those who might be confused, (I'm pretty uncertain of it, myself), I looked James' biography up at Harry Potter Wiki, and while many fanfictions you would read have Charlus and Dorea as his parents, it said there that it's Fleamont and Euphemia who are. So, if anyone's more knowledgeable of this than I am, please kindly inform me and I'd gladly edit this chapter for everyone.

Thank you!

xoxo, Alice


	3. Painting Flowers, Part One

**Defying Gravity**

Chapter Three: Painting Flowers

Part One

It was warm out.

The sun shone brightly behind the broken clouds of the blazing horizon – the rosy fingers of the dying dawn paling to clear cerulean – bathing the grounds with its golden glory; its rays bouncing off the shadows of the flowers that littered the grassy lawn and had come forth to greet the sweet spring. The chirping of the birds that nested in the trees became the music of the season – beautiful, lively, and soothing; and the green surroundings the living painting of every eyes.

On one of these days, Hermione Potter sat on their garden at the back of their Manor, tucked away from the rest of the world with a thick book and cocooned by a blanket that was now too small for her. Her messy locks were thrown on the top of her head in an even messier bun, her hazel brown eyes shining as they read silently the black letters that wrote themselves on the pages of her book. The thick foliage of the large oak tree she had laid herself under protected her eyes from the sunlight, acting as a barrier of soft blanketing that swayed with the dancing wind.

On the distance, she heard the muffled call of her twin brother, distracting her and pulling her out of her own little world, and drawing a smile on her face. "Hermione! Hermione, where are you?" the voice called, and the girl in question found herself giggling quietly. It seemed that despite living together for seven years, her brother would never learn anything about her so-called escape. Still laughing silently, she closed her book carefully and rolled to her back slowly, crawling over to the tree trunk and pressing her back against it, peering slightly behind her to see the older twin still searching for her.

"Hermione, come on! Mum's looking for you, you know? And Dad said if you don't come back soon inside the house, he'll eat your share of biscuits!" James persuaded. He knew that it would get him to nowhere, though; his sister can be quite stubborn oftentimes.

She hated tea time with a passion.

"It's useless to yell," James murmured to himself, knowing already that even if his twin heard him, she'd give no response. Instead, she'd hide silently and torture him to finding her. Yes, yelling would be useless indeed. "Hermione!"

That was when he heard it; it's quiet and barely audible but it's there: a giggle. Turning around, he spotted a large oak tree that stood a few yards away from him and a good meters from the house. A smirk crept up to his lips as he silently and slowly made his way towards it, jogging on his tiptoes so he wouldn't make a sound that would warn her of his presence. Meanwhile, the younger Potter grew curious when her brother's yelling ceased, urging her to crawl out a little from her spot, completely unaware that he's already figured out where she was.

"James?" she called out, but received no response. "Jamie?" she tried again, this time, using her nickname for her twin.

Then: "Boo!" A scream of surprise resonated in the air, breaking the silence the atmosphere held earlier. It was followed by a laugh: full and booming.

"JAMES CHARLUS POTTER!" The angry voice of his sister cut his laughter as he was met by her equally angry face. She stood there, half a foot smaller than him, with arms crossed against her chest and eyes narrowed, despite of which brought a small shiver of fear down his spine.

"What? You should've seen your face!" he said in his defense, which turned out to be the wrong move. "Er… It's priceless? Hehe."

"Run."

One word was enough to send him scampering around their lawn, his twin hot on his trail. While his twin was the less athletic one, he knew the odds were on her side the moment he broke to an escape as he had to ensure his glasses won't fall off his nose or he'll drive straight to the ground, face first. Unfortunately for him, if he thought he's fast enough to outrun her, he thought wrong.

"Incoming!"

The next thing he knew, Hermione had jumped at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and sending them tumbling and rolling down the ground. James instinctively rolled over and hugged his sister to his chest, his hand cradling the back of her head and the other wrapped around her waist, both in a protective manner. They went down on a steep, their momentum accelerating in a terrifying speed until they reached the foot of the hill and came to a stop near a pond. For a moment, they were both silent with shock, he with the sudden impact and she with its result; then they were laughing as if nothing had happened.

"Are you okay?" James asked his twin once they have calmed down, looking down at him with sincere eyes.

"I should be the one asking that," she replied, looking up at him and levelling his gaze with an earnest one of her own. She gave him a grin as she rolled off him and stood up clumsily, her head spinning a little as an aftershock of their trip. She blinked twice, trying to clear her vision and shook her head. "But I do think I am."

"Well, I'm fine, too. I must say, though, you're heavy!" he joked, pulling on a comical face as he poked his sides, his askew glasses adding to the effect. "I think you might've broken a rib or two."

Hermione just poked her tongue out at him rather childishly, the corner of her lips tugging into a smile. "Come on, slow poke," she teased him as she offered him a hand. "Let's head back inside before they panic and so that mum could fix you."

"I don't need fixing," he responded with a frown as he gratefully accepted her hand. His twin pulled her up as he pushed himself from the ground.

"Wow. That's coming from someone who's crying in pain just now. Ooof! Sheesh, now who's the heavy one?"

"I am not heavy!"

"Gee. Why so defensive?"

"Because…"

"That's not even a sound argument. Hmmm… I think you should be reading more intellectual books rather than your Quidditch ones. Your brain has acquired twice the rod it had since you began walking."

"Hey! At least I don't have noodles for arms." James grinned as he grabbed her forearms and gave them a small shake as if to emphasize his point. "See? And jellies for legs. Race you there!"

Before Hermione could even come up with a retort, he had broke yet again to another run. This time, ignoring his twin's protests for him to wait her and of his biasness.

Deciding that her twin won't change his mind to wait for her, Hermione began climbing up the hill with more effort, but with muscles and stamina a level or two weaker than her brother's, she found it difficult to begin with. As she climbed a meter higher, she'd slid half meter down and it didn't help that that side of the hill was slippery. However; the moment she took another step had resulted to her falling down, eliciting a scream off her. At that exact time, all her logic left her and all she could grasp inside her was panic, pure and trembling panic.

"James!" she managed to call out before she eventually rolled down into the pond. There was a very little time she had to hold her breath before she plunged into the cold water, and she almost choked as she felt her blood rushing to her head. The pond was deep and cold and dark, and her still shocked mind hindered her from swimming to the surface. An invisible force seemed to bring and pull her even deeper as she desperately tried to get her body to cooperate, but to no avail. Her vision started to cloud, blotches of blacks and whites mixing to dull grays.

As the air finally left her lungs, she had time to wonder if her twin heard her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Hello, my lovely readers! So sorry for the long wait. Life has kept be busy and still persisting to. Also, I was ill so I was unable to write until now. I apologize as well if this chapter is not as good as the previous ones, but I promise to try on the next. I'm still regaining my momentum :/

Anyways, I wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed and added this story to their subscription and/or favorites lists. Your continued support is highly appreciated.

Also, for the sake of my sanity and everyone else's, I changed the name of their parents to Charlus and Dorea (from the last chapter).

And… I'm signing off. If you have comments, suggestions, violent reactions, etc., feel free to leave one or two via review or PM.

'Til next time.

Love lots,

Alice.


	4. Painting Flowers, Part Two

**Defying Gravity**

Three: Painting Flowers

Part Two

* * *

 _When I wake up, the dream isn't done,_

 _I wanna see your face and know I've made it home._

 _When nothing is true, what more can I do?_

 _I am still painting flowers for you._

All Time Low, 'Painting Flowers'

* * *

Falling.

She was falling.

She remembered that it felt like floating down with nauseating speed, and with nothing but a spinning vortex of darkness to keep her company. What the seemingly endless void she found herself in only felt as if it was closing in her tighter and tighter, the minutes she counted by grew longer until she lost track of it, making it hard for her to breathe. Though the air, if it even was possible, was free and light; but there was no air. She could feel that cold and moist blanket around her, and she almost thought it could have been her second skin. _I'm cold_ , she thought. _Why was it so cold?_ She wanted to scream in hopes that someone would hear her, but when she opened her mouth, there was nothing but eternal silence that greeted her back, and a disturbing heaviness in her lungs and burning in her throat; while she pondered numbly why she's aware of it all when she's supposed to be unconscious.

Was she dead? If so, does death felt like being suspended somewhere Death only knows or did it feel somehow that your entire body was made of ice? Does being dead felt quiet? Peaceful? Free? Or did it feel empty as the listening shadows, wild as the non-existent air beneath her?

It should not be like this, she thought. _But what should not be like this?_

Then: _'Hermione...'_

The voice that called out to her seemed to have come from miles away, some place that's probably unreachable by any means, and it was muffled by something greater than the empty distance between them. She waited amidst the growing pain in her chest, trapped between the clutches of the darkness around her, for the voice to come again. Hoping, listening...

What felt like seconds turned to minutes, until the minutes stretched enough to feel like longer than an hour that she has to strain her ears for the smallest of sound, if her current state did not play tricks on her; then when she did, it surprised her that the voice was clearer, closer, and almost tangible. It was a woman's: angelic, magnetic, and it almost tasted like honey. "Hermione," the voice drifted to her like music, a soft lulling sound that made her want to fall asleep and keep her eyes open at the same time. It was probably a sin, to want to stay here if it meant that she's to hear that voice limitless, and to punch a hole somewhere if it would give her the light she needed; a light that she hoped wasn't just a runaway train at the end of a tunnel.

"Who are you?" she wanted to ask, but even without her voice, she heard her thoughts rang throughout her lonely companion. There was an eerily pregnant pause, and for a moment she felt the coldness creeping up her spine. Forty-two seconds have passed before the voice spoke again; she knew because she counted.

"I am you."

Confusion swept through her, but before she can process everything, she felt her eyes snap open, jolting her from then enchantment she was disheartened to find out that she missed. She took the time to let her sight adjust to what was in front of her if the bleariness of her eyes and her inability to keep her gain a focus to what greeted her helped. Surrounding her were ribbons of color: blue, green, purple, orange – all dancing in the air against the starlit skies. As she stood transfixed by their graceful swaying, she noted that they're simply not colors and that there certainly wasn't just one voice, contrary to the one she heard before, coming from them. There were too many to recognize, and probably more than she could count with her ears, and they were all singing. The brunette wondered if that's even possible because she was certain that one could not be singing while screaming at the same time, and screaming the voices were. She stood up, entranced once again that her feet began to move across the ground without her even knowing it. Lips slightly parted, and gaze glassy if not dazed, she reached out a hand, her fingers tracing their outline and she felt almost close to actually touching them.

Countless and more names and faces rang through her ears ad flashed before her eyes – all which made no sense to her let alone brought some sort of familiarity if it's what she's searching for. She could see a memory, a lot she could not remember she has ever lived, then another would play followed by random others. It felt like a dream, yet it felt too real to be a dream, and they're beckoning for her to come closer.

Before she could take another step, an ear-splitting noise reverberated through the slumbering scenery, and she found herself on her knees, palms pressed against her ears and eyes shut as if it would stop the sound from being carried out next to never where. Only when she felt a scorching pain on her chest and a warm river of liquid ran down the valley between her breasts did she realize that she was screaming.

The last thing she remembered was a ghostly figure awash in golden light that floated to her vision before she was pulled back into darkness, and when she was, she greeted it like an old friend.

"Welcome home, my Paladin."

* * *

James has never felt so horrified before. Watching his sister lose her momentum and tumble off the hill would have been funny if it was only another episode of her clumsiness; _only_ it was _not._ Watching his sister lose her momentum, tumble off the hill, and hit her head on the ground before drowning on the cold lake put the definition of horrified into shame. Hermione did not know how to swim, and even if she did, that hit on her head wouldn't have helped her, and in his moment of panic, he had forgotten that he could swim.

Instead, he scrambled off to get his parents, racing across the wide lawn to their house. "Mom! Dad!" His voice was desperate and his face streaked with tears as he called out for them. His glasses has fallen askew on the bridge of his nose, making his vision even more blurry through his own tears. "Mom! Dad!"

Hurried footsteps could be heard on the stairs leading down to the front hall from the upper floor, and it made his heart beat faster against his chest. "James!" His mother's voice, full of panic and worry, answered him. "What's wrong?"

His tongue was twisted as he tried to find the right words to say, but he wondered if, at this moment, those were what they needed. Or maybe, it wasn't what he was looking for, but maybe a better way to break such accident to them even if he knew there really was not. "Hermione- lake-"

Somehow, those were enough to make his father break into a frantic run towards that place. While the Potter matriarch gave him no room to explain what happened as she raced after her husband, the skirt of her dress gathered in her hands, perhaps to avoid tripping on her own feet, as she did so.

Realizing he had been left behind, he quickly took off just as fast as he arrived, not even taking a moment to catch his breath first.

When he reached them, their father has finally successfully pulled out his twin from the water, her skin and lips blue from the cold and lack of air in her lungs, and he felt the tears coming back in his eyes. "Mione?" he whispered brokenly. Seeing his twin half-dead was a sight, not even in his most horrible nightmare, he never wished to witness.

* * *

She awoke next to a song. A haunting and beautiful requiem that reminded her she wasn't even meant to be wherever she was now. She was almost certain she was dreaming, but even dreams did not felt real enough that it was almost as if she was watching a memory - just like the first one she had been. Unlike before, however, she felt warm – like she was basking under the sunlight or a kind of fire that doesn't burn her.

And unlike before she was certain where she was. The small, castle-like building on top of the hill was a place she called home for years.

"It's certainly a beautiful view from here, isn't it?" The voice she recognized from her dream before spoke from behind, and as if it was a normal conversation, she found herself answering:

"The sky looks the best from the tower." She knew because she's been up there more than she could count on her fingers.

She received silence as a response.

"I don't know who you are," she finally said, turning on her heels to look at the intruder, if she was anything like one. Instead, she came face to face with the most beautiful woman she met. The figure was enveloped with a golden light so bright Hermione knew she should've been blinded by it. She has long blonde hair that fell down on her ankles in luscious waves, impossibly silvery blue eyes and a figure every woman would kill to have. Of instead a tiara, a silver ornate circlet adored her head, twisting along her golden locks and making it seem like a halo. Behind her, fanning out like wings were clocks of all sizes, all golden and ticking away, and surrounding her feet were equally golden strands of sand, while beneath them was a magical diagram, with other small ones about it. For a moment, she could not find her voice, completely entranced by the beauty in front of her.

The woman smiled at her. It was warm and sweet as it was almost tangible, and she wondered if she could capture it and put it inside a jar.

"I am Historia, the Goddess of Time and Space," she introduced herself, her voice flowing out like a honey from her lips, and she swore she could almost taste it.

"I've been waiting for you for years, Hermione."


End file.
